


The Gift of My Execution

by bettisaurr, NortonsLove



Category: The Gift of My Execution
Genre: Anthropomorphic, F/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Tragedy, dark themes, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:45:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettisaurr/pseuds/bettisaurr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NortonsLove/pseuds/NortonsLove
Summary: Mason, a smart and sly guy finds himself guilty of plotting to murder the king of Laverandonia in order to free himself and his lover. According to Laverandonian law, Mason has no choice but to face his crimes and be punished; however, unknown to everyone else, Mason is plotting something far greater than anyone would have ever imagined. Will he escape his sins and reunite with his love, or will his soul be forever lost in the clutches of the god of death?





	1. Prologue

Everyone is born with a little darkness inside them; it is part of their deep animalistic nature. Some animals know what kindness is and act according to what their heart tells them to do. 

There are good creatures that grow up in a loving household with all the affection and support they need in life. 

Then there are those who are born with nothing, but a deep hatred for those who have raised them and what is presented around them. Instead of love and affection, the only parental contact they receive is a kick to the back or a glass bottle to the head. 

These actions cause a deep hatred to form inside the once good creature. A hatred that could swallow up even the darkest of night skies. Those born and raised with a heart such as this are doomed to failure. A creature as evil as this could never possibly find a way to win against the swift hand of justice… 

That is, unless they are faster than the hand itself.


	2. Chapter One: A Dark Beginning

If you were not born into a noble family, you would reside in the slums in the kingdom of Laverandonia: the kingdom of flowers and so called “land of plenty”. The king of Laverandonia was Luther. He was supposed to guide his people and see them prosper under this reign, but all he did was watch the commonwealth suffer and be left to rot in the slums. All King Luther wanted was money. All the nobles wanted money. The king never spent the tax money on actually rebuilding or remodeling the kingdom. He just spent it on himself and his wife…His wife.

She was a pretty thing indeed: a true sight to behold to anyone. Stories tell of how soft her raven hair is and how well groomed her fur is kept. Why would anyone think otherwise? 

She was born in a rich family of panthers known as the Helleborus family. Their lineage goes back to the very founding of Laverandonia. They ran a company that produced lavender-scented perfumes: the main cash crop that fuels Laverandonia’s trade with the neighboring kingdoms.

Lavender perfume seems like a silly thing to have as your main trade, but everyone outside the kingdom can’t seem to get enough of it. Not only do they claim it’s a lovely smell; they also say it calms the nerves and reduces the chance of migraines or even headaches. Laverandonia has the richest soil to grow and produce the most pristine lavender. It’s a sickening sweet smell… You can’t go a day without catching the scent of that vibrant purple plant, especially if your father works out in the lavender fields all day long.

A crow from the rooster signaled the start of a new day; a new miserable day. A figure stirred from underneath his dinghy covers and out popped a blonde tangled mass of hair. Two pointed ears swerved to the right in the direction of the window. This is where the obnoxious crowing was coming from. 

A pair of green eyes peaked over the blankets to glare at the crow that sat atop the windowsill outside. The owner of these eyes then let out a heavy sigh. “It only feels like I just got to sleep, and now this poultry must make his roost at my window. What a bothersome creature.” He threw the sheets off of his body and got up from his bed. He groaned as his back popped in different locations along his spine. His mattress was truly the worst of the worst in his eyes. 

He made his way to the noise-ridden window and cracked it open to push the bird off of it, sending it gliding down to the dusty ground below. The blonde cat looked down from the window to see the rooster running off down the dirt road of the servants’ housing, located behind the massive palace belonging to King Luther. He cursed at the rooster under his breath before leaning back inside the room and closing the window with a sharp thud. “Why did the gods curse us with such noisy fowl?” 

He backed away from the window before turning around to make his way to his small wardrobe on the other side of the room. There he opened the top drawer and took out his servant uniform. It was a simple white undershirt with a black wool vest to go on top of it. He also took out his black pants and black shoes. His clothes were nothing fancy, but it was enough to please the nobles if a servant were to be seen by them. 

There was no time to waste; putting the clothing items on one by one, he dressed himself. Once the blonde tom was dressed, he looked at himself in the small wall mounted mirror. The image staring back at him was of a young male tom cat in his mid-20s; his hair was curly and unkempt. This fact caused him to pick up a heavily-used hair brush and begin to control the tangled curls. All the while, he continued to stare at the emotionless reflection. No longer did the green eyes harbor anger towards the colorful bird that woke their owner from his sleep. Instead, they appeared to be holding in a deep emotion of perhaps, depression?

His eyes traveled to the reflection of his neck, or more like, what was around his neck. A green collar was locked tightly around the tom’s neck; a tag hanged from it with the name Mason engraved in it. Mason.. That was his name; the name bestowed upon him by his mother the moment he first came into the world. “I wonder how mother is doing lately?” He asked himself before he shook his head slightly and watched his carefully groomed hair fall into place, framing his face with soft curls pointing upwards. “I can’t keep wasting my time on looks.” 

Mason turned away from the mirror and walked towards the bedroom door; he picked up a pair of white gloves off of the dresser as he passed by. As he slipped the left glove on his hand and reached for the door handle, the moment his hand made contact with the metal, the glove was fully dressed onto his hand. He turned the knob and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him as he headed for the stairs pointing downwards to the first floor of the building; all the while, he placed the other glove on his right hand. 

The stairs creaked with each step he took; the wood was old and becoming brittle at this point in its life with years of many royal servants making their way up and down its unforgiving steps. The pastel tom avoided the last step by leaping down onto the floor from the second to last one. The last time he stepped on that one particular step, his whole foot almost caved through the wood. Possibly resulting in either breaking his ankle or leaving him with just horrible splinters. He wasn’t going to take another chance with that step, even though it has already been replaced with a new stronger plank of wood.

He made his way past other servants just starting their day and went straight out the front door of the house. The cool morning air was muggy yet inviting. The sun was just peeking its head above the horizon to let its beams begin the process of heating up the sky from the night before. Mason made his way down the dirt road and up to the back entrance to the castle. Large farm raised pigs made themselves known by snorting and whining as he walked past their muddy pens. Mason had no food to give them for he was not their master, but that never stopped them from trying every morning, whether it be him or someone else that just so happened to walk past them. 

As he walked through the slowly rising town of the servants’ dwellings, the stench of the farm animals hit him like a cloud of dust. The smell was revolting to say the least and the conditions of the housing all around him made no effort to raise charisma, but even with all of the noisy birds and rude characters Mason may bump into, it was still better than having the constant smell of lavender. 

He raised his head to look up at the open entrance into the back side of the castle: only servants passed through this way because a noble wouldn’t be caught dead here. Mason felt a small smile begin to form on the edge of his lips. ‘Caught dead.’ What a lovely thing that would be? 

Especially his royal majesty.. 

Before his feet even touched the inside of the castle, the sound of clattering silverware and hustling footsteps greeted him with a splash of cold reality. He watched as all the maids, butlers, cooks and chefs ran about trying to start the day right. He narrowed his green eyes at the sight. “They are bending over backwards for a man who doesn’t give two shit about them.” He thought to himself as he made his way through the kitchen and to the door leading out to the main hallway. “They work their hands to the bone just to please him and he does nothing for them, but complain and force them to do it all over again.” He placed his hands behind his back, feeling the urge to hit something grow stronger and stronger inside his heart and mind. “One of them could drop dead one day and he wouldn’t even notice the change of employees-... No..” His teeth clenched. 

“The change in slaves.” 

He halted his steps and stood beside the wall, facing forward. That’s all they were to the king, slaves, that fact was clearly obvious from the moment his majesty ordered the royal guards to clasp those collars around their necks. Control and obey, whip and beat, disgrace and replace, that’s what the king wanted; free will was nothing but a joke to him. 

Mason could feel his blood boil at the thought of being controlled. The collar around his neck burned with the desire to tear it off with the force of a wild animal, and finally feel the sweet cool breeze of freedom. But alas, that was not meant to be. Mason watched as each butler was given a tray of food to take up to their lords and ladies. He let out a low groan as he thought about how many of those butlers will be yelled at and scolded for their quote “pathetic display of a meal.” His neck itched under the collar as he remember the last time one of his lords grabbed it and practically choked him for his “pathetic offering”. 

One of the cooks snapped Mason back to attention as they called his name, proceeding to walk up to him and hand him the silver tray. “Go deliver this to her highness the Queen, and please be quick about it.” The cook snapped at him before hurrying back to the kitchen. Mason felt himself smile, just a little, as he started his journey through the castle. The queen was a merciful soul, one in a million. She was one of the first to actually speak against the use of collars, but that did not change the law of the land in any way. If anything, it made it worse. 

Now, the collars are to be kept on at all times, even during sleep to avoid getting the slaves mixed up and sent to the wrong master. Mason was considered an, expensive servant. He knew how to read and write and to most females he was quite the looker as well. Being a pastel blonde cat was also an expensive trait. Not many cats in Laverandonia have such a pretty color of fur and he had no spots or off color markings on his body. One could mistake him for a pure breed if it weren’t for that collar around his neck. 

Every animal is placed in some sort of pecking order depending on the genus and species. Pure breeds were at the top of the list, for example, the king was a purely bread sphinx and his wife was a purely breed panther. Mason was smart enough to know how dangerous that was though; keeping the bread pure was anything but pure. The history books Mason read so often on his down time showed him enough proof of that theory. He knew about all the disability and health problems that the royals have at times. The only reason why the king married a panther was because he needed more control over the lavender plantations. 

The marriage was arranged and the whole kingdom had to suffer through a week’s worth of celebration. The constant partying by the nobles led to mistakes made by the servants, then resulted in the deaths of said servants. It was all disgusting and everyone seemed ok with the part of forcing someone to marry the king even though she does not love him. 

Mason let out a soft sigh as he walked up the massive steps to the second floor. But then again the gods they worshiped did the exact same thing. Nothing matters to those who have power over others; they take pleasure in flaunting that power. Now that he thought about it, Mason couldn’t remember the last time he stepped into a temple. In fact, not many creatures were keeping temples up to snuff either. The temples around the kingdom were run down and falling apart. Most creatures have given up their faith because of how many unanswered prayers there were. The king’s family has broken the will of their people to the point where they have just given up and just started doing what they need to: to survive in this harsh world. 

Corruption was everywhere in Laverandonia, and Mason was sick of it all. 

He rounded the corner to the west wing and made his way through the long corridor. To most servants, this was the hall of sorrow because each person living behind every door was a monster. The king, his sons, his daughters, his-.. “Not his wife.” He told himself softly under his breath. “She isn’t like him.” 

With that last word he finally made it to her door. He held his breath as his hand reached up, ready to knock on the hard wood door. He paused in his action, thinking about how he would speak to her this morning. His heart started to race and he could feel the first signs of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. With all the will power he had in him, he knocked on the door. After two knocks he stood there in silence. 

If the queen was not awake already then he surely did wake her now. After what seemed like hours, he finally heard a response. 

“Come in.” The voice on the other side of the door was so soft and sweet, like a river of honey in a garden of sugary flowers on a cool summer day. 

Before he got carried away, Mason had to snap himself out of his train of thought as he reached down.

And opened the door…


End file.
